My Dancing Child
by ShikakoHoshiko
Summary: I walked down this path because I was driven for their survival. Being helped along the way was something not expected. - OC Reincarnation -
1. Introduction

The act of dying wasn't alarming, but rather the cause of death. It was fire in my apartment complex, when we had just gotten new fire detectors hilariously enough. The trauma came from seeing the flames curl and turn my roommate into a corpse. Having them devour the memories around you. Trying to breathe while the smoke fills your lungs. Knowing that you won't get out, that you don't even have a chance. In the end I died, but only after I saw the destruction of my precious things.

At first there was only black with small voices coming and going in indecipherable speech. I couldn't tell how much time had passed. Most of the time I had spent reliving my memories, trying to come to terms of what I had lost. One day I had felt the dark abyss that I lay in start to contract and pulse. It hurt, it felt like I was being compressed into a flat object to the beat of music. By the time it was done I was overwhelmed by the cold air suddenly hitting me. I embarrassingly went with my first instinct, which was to cry the loudest I could.

It wasn't until a few days after my rebirth that I fully realized what had happened. During the period before the epiphany was mostly sleeping and trying to concentrate. The following months was filled with sleep, crying, and trying to figure out was beneath my skin. It was always flowing, circulating throughout my body, itching or burning at times. Most of the time it was in a steady beat, turning or twisting at the small will that I could summon. It was everywhere though. Only changing in the way of feeling, it was the air flowing free, and rapid. It was also contained in my new parents.

My mother's was swift and calming with the constant undercurrent of danger. She felt like the water before the storm. Father's was like an excited puppy. He always gives off the vibes of light, and warmth. It was a hearth that was dearly treasured. Once my vision had fully developed it was hilarious how their energy fit their appearances. Mom had chin length navy colored hair paired with mocha eyes that always had a calculative glint. Dad was blessed with cobalt eyes and merigold shoulder length hair. When together their energy reached out to each other without thought, brushing and bursting with renewed strength.

At the time I could form words with my uncooperative tongue I had been around 18 months old. I only was able to say one word phrases and sometimes slurred on certain words. My mother started to leave for extended periods of time. Figuring out where she was going wasn't too hard because the forehead protector with a leaf explained a lot.

The first time I saw it I am not ashamed to say I started screaming. I was just abruptly shown that I was in a world where death and destruction was just a little too common for me. In a village that was the center for invasions, and countless reconstruction. My mother was a soldier going on mission that can kill her every single time. Father thankfully was a civilian, a tailor who didn't have any connections to shinobi outside out Mom. I was terrified. Would I be forced to become a killer?

I was walking at 19 months. My mother started to not be at home for months at a time. Dad was bringing me to work, his orders were speeding up and he didn't have any apprentices working underneath him. I asked him to teach me how to sew, I needed to be dexterous regardless of my career choice. He agreed, but most of the time he only had the time to show me what to do then move onto his next order.

My room was now filled with many of books and pieces of fabric. The beige walls were almost fully covered with the projects I was working on. The most recent one being journaling my past with a mixture of all the languages I know. It was time consuming process to pick and choose which words should be in which language. I had many to choose from seeing as I became fluent in many before I had been reborn. The point of time I was in my past life was at my time in highschool.

I finally began the pivotal debate in my head of whether or not to become a shinobi. Either way I was going to be in danger, but as a shinobi I would be able to protect myself easier. Though I would be put in more and more situations where I needed to kill or otherwise be killed. It really all boiled down to changing the plot drastically or trying not to affect it at all. I decided on changing the plot. I was too attached to the charac-people from the series to not try and help. All I hoped was that I would actually make a change for the better.


	2. Chapter 1

After my decision to be a shinobi I started to stretch and run every day to prepare. The running was particularly a challenge as I hated the exercise in both my past life and now along with me being 2 years old. Often times I had to walk instead to not wear myself out too much. I was starting to be flexible,along with being more coordinated with movements. The _energy_ from before was chakra and I was still able to sense it. Increasing my range from 3 feet was difficult. I had to be absolutely still ignore all my senses and focus on the chakra in the air. To feel how it twists and turns for hours on end.

Mother wasn't home at all anymore. She only came for meals then left. Her chakra stopped reaching out towards Dad. She wasn't smiling when he gave her a kiss. I wondered if it was my birth causing this divide. I'm abnormal. Dad's chakra reached for her's one day and curled back, as if it was hit. His face became pained. I think he finally realized she didn't love him anymore. Dad just kept acting like normal, he went about his routine. His chakra was one of the tells that he was depressed. It changed to a drooping dog laying down not wanting to move.

I tried to make him happy. It sometimes worked, he'd finally cracked a smile. Most of the time though he'd just tell me to go back to working on sewing or what I was doing beforehand.

I started to go outside and socialize with other children when I was 4. It was how I met Naruto. He was at the playground sitting on a swing looking at the kids playing. I wanted to interact with him so badly, he looked so sad. I walked forward quickly, trying to reach him as fast as I can. I wanted him to smile.

"Hello," I waved at him from a few feet away, "My name is Maiko, what's your name?"

"Naruto." He spoke quietly, body tensing as if to run away. "What do you want?"

I paused slightly. He was very different from what I remembered. "I want to be friends with you. I don't want to be lonely anymore." And it was true, even if I had a Dad in this life he wasn't there often nowadays. I was beginning to crawl into my shell from before.

His eyes shifted upwards to treeline above as if for reassurance. "Okay." He suddenly jumped up beaming brightly. I startled briefly wondering where this abrupt change came from.

"Thank you, can we go to the sandbox?" I asked him pointing at the vacant equipment.

"Sure"

 **Disclaimer : I Do Not Own Naruto**

 **Looking back on the last chapter it was very much rushed. Along with me realizing that an infant should be able to write at that age let alone sew, but I will continue to learn and improve my writing. It is only my first story and I will improve in time. This is also the reason I am producing very small chapters, another is that I am in school.**


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